


Freshwater Kelp

by TheDarkSide



Category: Naruto
Genre: Accidental Merman, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because I can, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional pain, F/M, Imprisonment, Izuna is an asshole, Jutsu Gone Wrong, Kagami is a precious bean, M/M, Madara has his own agendas to further, Tobirama has a short temper, Tobirama is suffering, Warring States Period (Naruto), baby kagami, he knows, he's stuck, in bath tubs, pity him, the author appologises
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-08-30 00:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16754563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkSide/pseuds/TheDarkSide
Summary: After a Jutsu misfire, Senju Tobirama is forced to remain at home while the war goes on without him. Or at least, SHOULD be going on. Hashirama is an Idiot of the Highest Caliber and once Tobirama gets his hands on his Stupid Sibling he will shake him until he's either unconscious or intelligent. Touka can laugh all she wants when he's fixed everything, but not now.





	1. Koi Pond

**Author's Note:**

> This hit me while I was drawing, and I really had to type it out. I thought, silly me, that it would be a one shot... And then the keyboard sort of ran away with me.*sniffs*

At this point in time, it takes a lot to surprise Senju Tobirama. As a renowned inventor of Jutsu, he is mostly accustomed to things blowing up in his face.  **This** , however is the icing on the Fucking Fuckup Cake. His Idiot Puppy of a Brother had fluttered and giggled upon finding him in his laboratory after he’d been absent from dinner for the third night in a row. Touka had outright laughed at him when Hashirama had called her for help. When he’d turned angry red eyes on her, she’d simply laughed louder and louder the longer he’d glared. Tobirama had taken great glee in biting her for that.

  


When one of his sniveling little cousins had returned from scouting duty, red in the face and panting with news of Uchiha movement at the border, the younger Senju had been hissing, spitting mad that he could not accompany Anija into battle. Leaving Touka to face that monologuing little weasel had sent him in to even more foul a mood. She had ruffled his wet hair and told him she couldn’t wait to see how he reacted to being beaten by a woman. He had insisted on sending  Katsumoto, the largest of his white tiger Summons, in his place. Touka had held his face and kissed his forehead, before standing and leaving alone at the end of the tiny pier.

  


He tracks the  **fresh-growth-sunshine-warm-earth** and  **not-empty-shadows-surprise** of his brother and cousin, as they lead the Senju war party to meet with the blaze of Uchiha that has collected in a field to the East. Katsumoto comes to stand at Hashirama’s left when they arrive, and Tobirama would give his right arm to be present and see for himself the root of  **confused/???** that he picks up so easily in the  **smoke-prickly-wildfire** and  **static-hot-snappish** that signify Madara and Izuna in his Sensor Sight.

  


He digs fingernails into the wood of the pier when all they do for fifteen minutes is  _ stand there _ . That means  _ they’re talking, and he’s not there to hear whatever the fuck it is they’re saying _ . It also means he cannot stop Anija from making a fool of himself by crying at Madara about peace and childhood dreams, Touka will let him be as idiotic as he likes for the purpose of her own entertainment.

  


When the two Clans finally do clash, he’s no less on edge. Hashirama and Madara move off to the side as they always do to engage in their glorified sparring, and Katsumoto and Touka engage Izuna. Tobirama’s head aches with how hard he’s focused on the battle, Sensor Sight straining and nails gouging deep furrows into the wood under his hands. After a good hour of  **attack-defend-small-ow** from all five of them, the fighting ends. His cousin, his Summon and that Uchiha pest are pressed so close together they’re almost one signature. 

  


Sharp teeth bite viciously into lips that are already a bleeding mess as Tobirama waits for one of the bright sparks to go out. When all he gets is  **tired-smiling** and  **interested-excited** from his cousin and Izuna respectively, his eyelashes tickle his eyebrows. Madara moves to his brothers side, followed shortly by Hashirama. The elder Uchiha flips through emotions too quickly for Tobirama to track, and settles on fondly amused exasperation. A hand full of heart beats in which nobody moves, and then  **HAPPY** from his brother makes him wince and hiss as sunshine explodes across his senses.

  


When his Clan members return an hour later, Tobirama is on his belly on the pier. He is glaring at the shouji door that leads into the house, and Anija is the first through it. His idiot elder brother only barely remembers to actually slide the paper screen open first before he goes through.  _ Thank kami, he hates having to replace them all so regularly _ . Hashirama scrambles over the lawn, skids on wood as he tries to slow down and falls on his armoured backside.

  


Sliding to a halt just under his younger brother, eyes level with where Tobirama has braced his torso up on his arms, he grins. When all the albino does is bare teeth at him and growl, Hashirama lets out the most pathetic whimper. He is still wearing that stupid shining smile, and Tobirama forces one eyebrow up in question. The effort is truly monumental, when all he wants to do is smack that idiotic look off his brothers face and into the man’s beloved peonies. “I’m so happy,” says the fool,”you’ll never guess what happened.” Both his eyes twitch in an effort not to roll them or hit the buffoon lying upside down under him.

  


Slowly, menacingly, Tobirama lowers himself onto his elbows and leans down until his eyes are less than three centimeters from his brothers. Hashirama’s eyes cross a little as he gets closer. Tobirama reaches deep within and pulls out his Most Annoyed at the Manchild voice. “That is correct. So mayhaps you would speed things along and  **just** .  **Tell** .  **me** .” Big, brown, crossed puppy eyes blink up at him. The corners of them fill with some sort of emotional tears, and Tobirama bends backwards so quickly he’s surprised his spine doesn’t snap.

  


The eldest Senju rolls over and wriggles upright, scooching forward and gripping his brother’s shoulders. Vibrating with barely contained happiness, Hashirama opens his mouth and takes a deep breath. What follows is the most flower and rainbow filled re-telling Tobirama has ever allowed himself to be subject to. By the end of it, which amounts to “Madara agreed to consider peace because our cousin smeared his brother across the whole field, prompting Izuna to fall into what he believes is Love at First Fight”, Tobirama is both anatomically shaken and stunned dead still.

  


The flowery prat only just manages to avoid long fingered pale hands clawing at his throat, scrambling madly backwards in an attempt to escape his now Deeply Enraged sibling. The younger is shouting angry pronouns and grabbing madly at which ever limb is closest and progressively dragging himself up the pier. When the eldest manages to clamber to his feet and make a break for it across the garden, he is pursued hotly by a good third of the not-really-small koi pond.

  


He makes to the shouji screen, only to have it thrown open by Touka who has just arrived to tell her Baby Cousin the good news. The both of them are promptly washed straight out the front door. Katsumoto gives them a deeply amused chuff and the slow curl of a long black and white tail as he strides into the house to join the one who has taken care of him since he was but a blind mewling cub in the backyard.

  


Tobirama is huffing and snarling as he shreds the grass at the base of the pier when the Siberian Tiger comes to lay gracefully at his side. A rough tongue licks him from hairline to crown, forcing snow white locks into a vertical arrangement. “Today was most eventful.” Tobirama gives him a growled ‘mmm’ in reply. Katsumoto presses his side against Tobirama’s torso, and pushes his head under the man’s arm in a demand for petting. The Senju calms with each pass of pale fingers through barely paler fur, and listens without interruption as his Summon recounts the days happenings.

  


It’s evening by the time Hashirama dares to show his face again, and Touka is at his side. He has brought a dinner of fried fish, Tobirama’s absolute favourite, in a shameless attempt at a bribe. He gurgles a little when red eyes narrow up at him, but sets the tray down gently and nudges it closer. The angry glare doesn’t stray an inch from the largest Innocent Doe Eyes in Hashirama’s arcenal for the entirety of dinner.

  


Chopsticks are set precisely across the bowl when the elder Senju clears his throat timidly. “So uhm… What are we going to do about that?” Hashirama waves a tea cup at the thick, shimmering tail attached to Tobirama’s hips where there once were long legs. It’s rather fascinating to watch scales ripple in the low evening light as white fins flare down four meters of eel-like tail. 

  


He dodges the bowl that comes flying at his head and makes it inside in time to shut the paper screen. Hashirama’s little yelp when two chopsticks go right through it on either side of his head has Tobirama baring shark teeth in a mad grin. Touka remains where she’s been sitting for the past half hour when Tobirama turns a raised eyebrow at her. She simply raised both of her own in return and ran a hand over pearlescent scales that had grown rough as they’d dried and said, “At least you don’t smell of fish.”


	2. Preservation

Sleeping is difficult. The pond, while large enough for the fish that had lived there shortly before he moved in, is not meant to hold a creature his size. Resting in the open air would be the next best option, if it weren’t for the fact that the delicate skin between his armoured scales dries to the point of bleeding through cracks after three hours.

 

Tobirama cannot hold the Water Prison jutsu while asleep, and there are no other Suiton users accomplished enough with accommodating reserves to perform it and endure it for six hours.Close inspection of his person had revealed no gills, though he had discovered holding his breath only felt uncomfortable after twenty five minutes.

 

“Tobira.” He lifts his gaze to meet with Hashirama’s, who is peering at him over two rolled up futon.

 

“Anija, what are you doing?”

“I can hardly let my Baby Brother sleep out here alone can I? I brought you a bed.”

“I  am hardly a child in need of coddling, I’ve spent plenty a night alone on missions.”

 

Hashirama plops down and brings his hands together. Mokuton leaps to fulfil his command, and Tobirama folds his now too long body into the furthest corner of the pond. When Anija releases the jutsu, there is a perfectly smooth wooden ramp resting up against the side of the pond. Hashirama throws one futon into the water, allowing it to unfurl part ways up the wood. “Anija!” Only gets him a shrug and a sheepish grin as his elder brother unrolls the second mattress on the grass so that they lie parallel to one another.

 

Tobirama lays his torso over the soaked futon and rests his forehead on folded arms. Not being able to clench his teeth in the state that they are now is terribly frustrating. “Anija, I cannot remain here.” Hashirama tries to shush him, but this is a serious concern. Stretching out means he has a third of his tail hanging over the opposite edge of the pond, not enough room to be comfortable and most certainly too little to exert himself. Muscle deterioration is not something he wants to induce, he’s enough of a cripple as is.

 

When he lifts his head, his brother is gazing at him with unusually somber eyes. Hashirama doesn’t speak, and his eyes do not stray. They stare at each other for a few minutes before the serious look leaves the elders face so quickly it is as though it’s been thrown, and that stupid smile is back “We’ll figure something out”. Tobirama parodies his grin, and the baring of so many needle sharp teeth has Anija scrunching his nose in distaste. The subject is dropped and the brothers curl up to sleep. Well, the younger curls, pulling that long tail to rest over his back.  _ I must look like a pale sea urchin _ , a glance at the splayed form of his sibling.  _ Rather an urchin than a starfish, kami help whatever poor soul marries him _ .

 

Tobirama isn’t even fully awake when he clamps whatever had hit his head between steel trap jaws. Inhaling as he comes to consciousness sends him coughing as bloodied downy  feathers tickle his tonsils. He hacks, spitting out the tiny and now very deceased sparrow, and frantically clearing his mouth of feathers. The loud, heartfelt litany of “Plergh, plergh plergh! Plghhhh!” startles his brother into wakefulness. Good, that snorting had kept him up all night. Honestly, it’s like sleeping next to a wild boar. Not even Butsuma had snored this loud.

 

“Tobira! Are you okay?! What’s wrong?! Did you bite your tongue?!” Hashirama flops gracelessly to join him in the pond and grabs at his face. Tobirama holds the idiot at bay with one arm, scoops up a mouthful of water and expels the last of the feathers. The Intelligent part of his brain promptly reminds him that in the rush to get him into the pond once they had found him dehydrated and bleeding on the floor, they had neglected to change the water after evicting the fish. Upon realising that he has just gargled with what was essentially a mouth full of fish urine, he promptly spits it into his brothers face. 

 

“Anija, I  **cannot** remain here!”

“Tobira! That’s disgusting! Eeeeheheheeew! Why would you DO that to me?! Don’t you love me?!  **OH MY GODS THE FISH PEED IN HERE EW!** ”

 

Hashirama, who obviously has not heard him over the sound of his Internal Universal Collapse, is up and dashing for the house at a speed as yet unused in battle. Tobirama would be almost proud if it weren’t for the distinct sound of the death of yet another shouji door. “I am not fixing that!” Anija, who is probably trying to drown himself in the kitchen sink by the sound of things, most likely also misses that too.  _ I’d gladly be of service, if drowning is what he desires _ .

 

Touka finds him glowering scowling at the soaked futon, picking at the mattress with nails that are starting to look rather like claws. She flops down onto Hashirama’s abandoned bedding, and casts a bleary glance at the house where their esteemed Clan Head has barricaded himself in the wet room for a Full Scrub Down of Epic Proportions. The pale Senju is mostly lost in vivid imaginings of sticking a plunger to his siblings ear and finding out once and for all it that Stupid can be dispelled by force.

 

“What the fuck is going on with him now?”   
“I spat pond water in his face.”

“So that’s what the screaming was that woke the compound.”

“He is a graceless, floundering , idiotic, pathetic, spinel-”

 

She promptly claps a hand over his mouth, which he nips at in warning. All he gets for his efforts is a light smack to the back of the head. Tobirama rolls his eyes, and for a moment he almost hears Izuna’s weedy little voice telling him they’ll get stuck like that. Speaking of which…

 

“I hear that little Uchiha ferret made an utter fool of himself. Just how exactly did you get him to throw himself at your feet and beg to be allowed to ‘worship your gloriousness for all of eternity’?”

“It’s a wonder what a little torn fabric can do… I had the nicest dream, actually. All these wonderful images of him laid out beneath me, and all I had to do was reach out and tear those flimsy-”

 

Tobirama is quick to plater both webbed hands over his innocent ears and regret the day he had ever been born. Perhaps if he were to prostrate himself at their feet, the Yamanaka may be so kind as to scrub his brain of that image. He’s  **not** a prude, but there are some things he simply  **does not wish to think about** . He will never be able to look his proclaimed ‘Eternal Nemesis’ in the face again and not think of this moment.

 

Hashirama emerges after an hour and a half of scrubbing himself, and Tobirama is only mildly surprised that fish excrement resulted in a longer bath than the blood of their enemies. Anija will always be at least half way a child, and he’s both a little happy and a lot annoyed about that fact. It is, however, mildly amusing to note that the man seems to have scrubbed himself to within an inch of his life and is sporting the most rosy complection Tobirama has ever seen on such tan skin.  _ Perhaps he used the wire brush under the sink _ .

 

The Senju Clan Head settles himself regally next to his cousin and third in command, and proceeds to pout firmly at the peonies on the other side of the garden. When Tobirama heaves a sigh from the depths of his being, from that special place where he keeps his cuddly love and brotherly affection, he’s awarded a contemptuous sniff and more thorough sulking.

 

It’s Touka that eventually gets them to talk about relocating Tobirama to the Nakano. They are all aware (mostly) that he cannot remain here, and he makes it very clear that he will have to relieve himself eventually and is most certainly not doing so in the Main Households’ koi pond. He is rather fond of the fish, and he would hate to do that to them no matter that both he and Anija had very nearly swallowed their urine. He had cleared that taste out with coffee so strong he’s convinced it bent the spoon.

 

By mid day the Clan Head has gone to mope and pout at the elders about setting their now crippled Clan Heir lose in neutral territory. The sun is two hours set when he returns, after half a day full of screaming and wailing from indistinguishable parties. Touka has spent her time not so patiently carting Tobirama around the house in the wash tub and helping him pack. The youngest Senju, for his part, has been indulging himself in his own fair share of moping in regards to all the research that he will have to leave behind.

 

What they leave with is three watertight sealed scrolls in the most gaudy sling bag that Touka had managed to dig out of her closet. His scales look rather pretty in the low light of the lanterns, shimmering iridescent and throwing the most mesmerising reflections on the cobblestones. Which is really all he can see, slung over his brothers shoulder as he is. Touka contends herself with picking lose scales off his lower half and pocketing them shamelessly.

  
They set him down on the rocky bank that bears so many bad memories for him, and he almost wants to smack his brother for it. Hashirama looks as though he wants to bid his youngest sibling a very long and tearful farewell, nomatter that Tobirama  **knows** the Mooncalf will be back the very next day to check on his precios person. That is neatly avoided by grabbing that horrible orange monstrosity his cousin had gifted him and plunging head first into clear water. He keeps a tendril of chakra firmly attached to both of them after he submerges.  **_Not_ ** _ how I imagined moving out to be _ , but he’ll take what he can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't figure out how to attach a damn picture, so if you want to have a look at the art I've cobbled together then here's the link again:
> 
> https://artbythedarkside.tumblr.com/image/180607704073


	3. River Spirits

As it turns out, swimming takes some getting used to when one has the lower half of an eel. It takes a good two hours of clawing himself up river along the rocky shallows before he has the hang of things, and another three before he can move quickly. And boy is he  **fast** .  _ Almost worth not being able to run _ . In fact he may be just a little faster like this. The little bag bumps against his dorsal fin every now and then, but tying the strap shorter fixes that. 

Tobirama is ever eager to push himself, so that is exactly what he does. He glides into the deeper middle of the river, turns with the current and Takes Off. The speed is almost enough to take his breath away, and he pushes until the muscles and tendons all down his tail  **burn** with the exertion. It’s exhilarating to be able to move like this after two days of being practically immobile in the koi pond.

He bares teeth in a fit of childish glee, dives a little, and then  **leaps** right out of the water. There’s angry flapping and quacking when he startles a group of sleeping Mandarins into flight, but he just laughs at them and sends a great arc of water after them. It feels unbelievably good to  **play** again, Touka and his brother so rarely have time for a little fun with him.

He suspects it’s something to do with fear of the hair brush in Hashirama’s case, but hengeing into the dresser and speaking when Anija had picked it up had been worth the scolding tears that had followed the screams. It had almost been as good as when he had disguised himself as a potted plant and spat water at his brother when a sleepy Clan Head had made his watering rounds.  _ Honestly, as if the Mokuton weren’t enough, he has to go and fill every available space with yet more plants _ .

He’s still grinning to himself when he hears upset sniffing from further up the shore, and stretching out his Senses shows him the  **sputtering candle-owie-scared** of a young Uchiha. After a moment of internal debate, he submerges and swims slowly toward it. There are new instincts of  **food?** among the shinobi habits that instil caution, and he pushes them down firmly. He’s intrigued and repulsed by the new urges his body brings, and vows to think on them later.

There is a little boy on one of the rocky outcroppings, pale skin shining in the moonlight and a fluffy mop of dark curls on his head. He’s small, most likely no older than five and crying snotty tears over hands clasped on his knee. Tobirama briefly considers scaring him off, and opens his mouth to present the most frightening sneer he can muster, when he tastes coppery blood on his tongue. He pauses, and there is a little voice telling him to help. He frowns at it, because it sounds an awful lot like Hashirama.

Tobirama absently rolls onto his back in the water as he considers, and the soft splashing must startle the boy. The child is on his feet and holds a kunai in trembling hands far too small, and looks as though he’s about to make a run for it. That stirs Tobirama’s perfectly normal,  _ shut up Anija _ , parental instincts and he’s half out of the water and curled around the boy before he can think about moving.

The kunai, blunt for practicing, clatters to the ground. The Baby Uchiha is on his back, shaking where he is tucked against the softer scales under Tobirama’s belly. He’s hiccuping with tears he tries to hold, and the Senju feels a little sorry for him. Flattening his fins and making himself look as non threatening as possible doesn’t do much, so Tobirama offers him a gentle smile. That gets a loud snotty sniff.  _ Kami, I must be quite a sight, poor boy looks like he’s an inch away from screaming his lungs out _ .

When he shifts his weight there’s a tell-tale “Mmmmm” that hints at an oncoming screech, and Tobirama slaps a hand over the childs mouth. There’s more sniffing and he closes his eyes,  **scared-scared-scared** fizzing though underdeveloped chakra coils. Tobirama frowns and lifts his hand. “I’m not going to hurt you, little one.” The boy gulps but doesn’t reply, pressing his own hands over his mouth.

Tobirama prods the scrape with a fingers coated in cool green iryo chakra. The boy whines a little at the sting, and shudders a bit when Tobirama heals the scrape. He finishes just in time to retreat into the water at the approach of Izuna’s signature. “KAGAMI! Thank Kami, there you are? What the f-flapping ducks are you doing out here?”  _ Most unimaginative, Weasel _ . There’s a hiccup and a sniff, followed by the scuffling that must be Izuna picking the boy up. “I saw the Naka no Seishin!” Izuna scoffs and there’s a loud smack. “I did so! I’m not untruthing! It’s white and red and scaly and big and-” “Oi, don’t hit me. You’ve been spending far too much time with my brother. Let’s go home, and you can tell Uncle Sourface all about it.”

Tobirama lifts himself soundlessly out of the water just in time to see Kagami smack Izuna again and promise to tell ‘Mada-oji-san’ exactly what his brother called him. Izuna counters the threat with a bribe of baby tomatoes, and Kagami nods sagely when the number falls above ten. The Baby Uchiha turns his head just before Tobirama lowers himself back into the river, and waves vigorously. “Stop wiggling! If your beloved Oji-san hears I dropped you he’s going to kick my head off my shoulders and into the koi pond!”

The Senju smiles to himself as he swims slowly downriver on his back, hands folded over his chest. Strange as it is, hearing the Uchiha speak so loosely of family amuses him. He smiles a little wider when the image of Kagami waving madly at him despite being so terrified only moments ago flicker before his minds’ eye.  _ Perhaps I will see you again Little Mirror _ . Maybe his brother’s Village Idea has some merit, if only to protect such precious innocence.  _ I guess we have a Village Idiot in reserve already _ .

Tobirama turns absently up a smaller tributary, senses stretched out in alertness. The river had carried him into Uchiha territory, and he’s well aware that the caves he’s looking for lie further up the stream and almost a little too close to the Uchiha compound. The clan is a gathering of fires in his senses, and he can easily pick out the Clan Head and his little ferret of a brother. The candle of Kagami’s child-small chakra coils sits with them, glowing with contended smugness.

He keeps a close metaphorical eye on Madara, well aware that while the man’s Sensor abilities aren’t quite up to snuff against his, they’re nothing to scoff at. He doesn’t know just how far the Uchiha’s range extends, and therefore watches intently for any  **angry-surprise-fight** in his signature. All he gets is rippling amusement and the Sensors Equivalent of rolling ones’ eyes.

Tobirama startles an otter on his way up to the cave, but goes undetected otherwise. It’s just as he remembers it, rocky mouth hidden in one of the many grassy knolls that dot the plains and only barely wide enough to fit a fully grown Akimichi through with some struggling. The little pool is also as he remembers it, clear and shallow and thankfully free of frogs. Thick, fluffy moss is a little slimy under is belly, but Tobirama is not his brother and far from squeamish.

He stretches his chakra out a little more, until he’s brushing along that evergreen powerhouse that is Hashirama.  **Snoring-dreaming-giggling** is easy enough to feel when he’s grown up with it, and lulls him into a peaceful sort of semi-consciousness that will grant him rest but no dreams.

He keeps a good Eye on Madara and Izuna, and finds the sleepy signature of Kagami next to the Elder. He spares a hazy thought as to where the boys parents are as he sets his Internal Alarm for an two hours before dawn. The water of the spring is a warm blanket, and Tobirama curls loosely about himself and the little pile of rocks that holds his arms above water as they pillow his head. Arm length spines stand slowly as he relaxes, and his last thought before his frontal lobe switches off is that if that stupid Squeaky River Rat disturb him here the only thing it’ll get is sudden death by impaling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kagami calls Tobirama "Naka no Seishin", which means Spirit of the Naka.


	4. Surprise Motherfucker

_ Kagami is okay, as Uchiha go _ . Tobirama decides this in the second week of his occupation of the river. The boy had come looking for him the day following their meeting, and every day since. He’d dragged first Izuna and then Hikaku with him. On the ninth day he’d come alone, and after a week of hiding Tobirama rewards him with an hour of company. And besides, the boy had grown somewhat despondent when he wouldn’t reveal himself, he deserves to know their first meeting hadn’t been some sort of Genjutsu.

 

Kagami is the Hashirama of the Uchiha clan, in a way. Charming and happy and overeager among a clan of Prideful Hotheads, and Tobirama cannot help but grow a little fond of the curly haired imp. He’s always had a bit of a soft spot for children. Kagami becomes a regular companion beside Hashirama and Touka, who are unaware of his little Uchiha fosterling.  _ And that’s how it’s staying _ . Anija will cry and the Evil Witch will laugh and he will be forced to drown them both, and that’s more effort than it’s worth. 

 

Fixing his predicament turns out to be a lot more complicated than he’d thought. Evidently removing organs and vertebrae is a lot more complex than adding them, and Tobirama is a little… rusty in regards to complex anatomy. He rolls the scroll he’s had Hashirama bring him with an annoyed huff, and suddenly really misses feet to stomp with. Anger compounded by that thought, he pushes off the little rocky outcropping he’d been sunning himself on, and spends the next three hours chasing fish until exhaustion slows them to the point that they can barely swim before he eats them. He firmly ignores the voice that whines at him that playing with his food is cruel, because that sounds like Hashirama and his Anija rarely has anything of actual value to say.

 

Kagami finds him lounging on his belly among loose pebbles, absently picking fish bones from his teeth with a fingernail that’s long since grown into a sickle claw. He pretends he can’t hear the clattering that the boys feet make as he makes an -admirable if poor- attempt to sneak up on Tobirama. He lets Kagami make his leaping attack before rolling over on his back and catching the surprised Uchiha safely in his arms. The boy squeals with laughter when Tobirama blows raspberries on a smooth tummy exposed by the robe that’d ridden up.

 

“Seishin! No! It- It tickles, no!” And Tobirama obliges after one last raspberry before tucking the robe down, rolling onto his side to set Kagami down on the shore. The boy is pink from laughing, and his curls look in even more of a disarray than they usually do. Tobirama combs through them softly, careful to keep his nails light over his scalp lest he scratch the boy. Kagami smiles and closes his eyes in enjoyment,  _ so much like the cats the Uchiha keep _ , and Tobirama smiles in return.

 

“Seishin, do you grant wishes?” The words are spoken slowly, serious and devoid of the usual grin. “Not that I’m aware. Was there something you desired of me?” Kagami fusses with his sleeves,  keeping his gaze on the pebbles below, and Tobirama knows exactly where this is going. “Death is very often a one way path. While it is possible to revive those who have passed-” Kagami opens his mouth, and Tobirama presses a finger over his lips to halt the question- “ it is unwise and unkind to them. A soul returned from Death is not the same as it once was when it was living. That is why it is important to choose the lives you take as a Shinobi with care. Some who are alive deserve death, but there are some who have died that deserve life. Can we return it to them?”

 

Kagami frowns and remains quiet, face sombre and aged beyond his years. A minute passes before a new voice breaks the silence, and Tobirama startles. “What a pretty speech Senju.” Madara is leaning against one of the trees a few feet away from them, brows drawn angrily over eyes molten red in anger. Tobirama is well aware that the only reason he hasn’t attacked is because Kagami is in the line of fire, cradled against Tobirama’s chest.

 

Kagami looks surprised by the sudden appearance of his Very Angry Uncle Sourface. He looks at his Clan Head, looks at Tobirama, crosses his arms and shakes his head. “Seishin is not a Senju,”- and Madara draws in a deep breath as his face slowly reddens, but Kagami talks right over him-”because you said Senju are evil. Seishin isn’t evil, so he can’t be a Senju, and if he is then the Senju aren’t evil and you untruthed.”

 

Madara, who is shading toward a truly spectacular puce in his fury, hisses and sputters and flaps his arms like a Rather Angry Turkey. When he doesn’t manage to expel any words, Kagami scowls and frowns and does his Absolute Best to look as angry as possible. Evidently he’s had a good teacher, because while Tobirama can’t see his face, he can see Madara’s and it’s spectacular. “If I’m not allowed to tell untruths, then neither are you.”

 

The first noise to escape the grown Uchiha’s mouth sounds very much like the Soul of Exclamation Marks, and Tobirama is fairly convinced he can actually see the mans hair double in size like a very angry house cat. “Oh no no no no no! NO! I- ergh!!!”  _ He sounds like a cat too _ , and Tobirama only barely manages to hide his smile behind soft curls.

“Mada-oji-san, I’m not a baby any more, I know what I’m doing. Seishin is my friend and I’m not going to let you chase him away.” Kagami huffs, crosses his arms tighter, and turns to pout at the river. He’s still cuddled firmly to Tobirama’s chest, and Madara would catch him easily if he were to make a break for it now. The elder man also can’t see his tail from where he’s standing.

Madara Huffs, and he’s never heard it with a capital letter before and yet that’s obviously what it is, stomps in a circle and glares. The Sharingan is still active, and Tobirama studiously avoids eye contact, for all Genjutsu is more Izuna’s field of speciality. The elder Uchiha is very much a strength based fighter, and seems to be firmly of the belief that fighting is a matter of Beating the Living Daylights out of the enemy with the Largest Weapon Available. The gunbai -thankfully absent at the moment- is a case in point.

 

“You know what, FINE! If you’re not getting up then I’M NOT FLUMING GOING ANYWHERE EITHER!!!” Uchiha Madara, Head of one of the most powerful Clans in the Shinobi World and one of the few holders of the Mangekyou Sharingan, throws himself onto the forest floor and glares at them with one angry eye over a very stubborn pout.  _ And here I thought I’d never meet Anijas Idiocy Equivalent, I think I understand why he was Hashirama’s best friend _ .

Kagami gifts him with a truly flat sigh and what must be an equally flat look, because he flails and sputters and growls before sticking his tongue out at the little boy in Tobirama’s arms. Madara’s chakra is  **angry-angry-angry** , but not threatening violence. In fact the Senju is fairly convinced -and he’s never felt this before- but there is also a firm  **sulking-not moving-stubborn** . Tobirama takes a deep breath, sputters as he tries to stop himself, and Laughs. Long and loud and from his belly, and Kagami joins in with childish giggles that can clearly be heard under the baritone rumble of Tobirama’s voice. Madara puffs up even more, to the point where Tobirama is surprised he doesn’t burst into feathers like the Angry Pigeon he is inside, and opens his mouth to give what will no doubt be a very loud shout that may resemble words.

 

Tobirama doesn’t give him a chance. He grips Kagami by the collar and throws him straight at his Clan Head,  _ carefully so he doesn’t get hurt _ . Madara leaps to his feet, catching the boy and turning just in time to see Tobirama scrabble to turn around. The elder man screeches when he catches sight of the Senju’s long scaled tail as the Senju slides into the water with practiced ease. He’s a good five hundred meters away when he surfaces for a breath, and Madara’s voice is as loud as it would be if he were standing next to the man.

  
“WHAT THE ACTUAL-” a pause and then: “YES! FUCK! WAIT A MINUTE WHO TAUGHT YOU - SENJU!!!” There’s a longer pause and Madara’s chakra turns toward the Uchiha compound before Tobirama catches “IZUNA YOU LITTLE SHIT! THE FISH ARE DUE A VISIT YOU- YOU- YOU-  **INSUBORDINATE BRAT** !” Tobirama has changed his mind, Hashirama is Pleasant in comparison to Madara.  _ That is by far and away and without a shadow of doubt the hardest working voice box in existence _ .


	5. Fishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobirama may be a little hooked in the worst way possible. Please don't approach him about it, he's in denial.

Madara turns out to be even better at making a nuisance of himself then Hashirama is. The Uchiha returns to the river at all sorts of odd hours, and it's only because of Tobirama's Chakra sensitivity that he manages to avoid the man. Of course, because all  good things must come to an end, Madara inevitably catches him at an inopportune moment. Tobirama slides his tail up to protect his head as the gunbai comes down, blade scraping along the hard enamel of his back scales. The Uchiha has to twist to avoid a spine to the thigh, rolling to a crouch and giving Tobirama enough to yank his claws out of the driftwood he’d been marking. When Madara leaps in for a second attempt, he’s swatted out of the air by the muscular length of Tobirama’s tail and slammed into the pebbles of the bank. 

Tobirama is on him in an instant, grasping one arm to pin it to the ground and catching the other in his jaws as it comes up to backhand him. There’s a loud exclamation of pain. “Fuck! You’ve got teeth like broken glass you  _ filthy gods damned rat _ !” Sharingan eyes glare a Madara’s chakra seethes  **hot** - **angry** - **killing intent** under him, the Uchiha’s hips pinned under his own and spine twisted backwards to reach him around the weight of his tail. Tobirama, in a moment of adrenaline driven instinct haze, transfers the arm in his mouth to be pinned alongside it’s partner to press bloodied teeth to a vulnerable nape bared by a mane of hair tossed to lay on the pebbles in the fray. When Madara squirms, Tobirama  _ growls _ , deep and raw and more like an animal than anything else.

He has a moment to enjoy the Uchiha tremble in surprise and outrage before soft cotton creeps in to haze his mind. His arms go limp, his full weight collapsing onto the man beneath him. “ _ Finally _ . Thought that Yamanaka… instant… still  _ awake _ .” Madara pushes his dead weight off easily with chakra bolstered muscle, rolling Tobirama onto his back. Gloved fingers pry his half closed lids open a little wider, and red eyes blearily track the hand waved in front of his face. “... enough to knock out  _ Hashirama _ !” Distanly, and a good two minutes too late, he realises Madara must have poisoned him. There’s a twinge in the soft scales near his vent, and senbon is waved at him with a maniacal grin. Madara has dirt smeared all over his face, sand grains in his hair and blood darkening the shoulder of his robe. There’s also a spectacular bruise starting to shade into the pale pink of his cheekbone.  _ Pretty _ , is the last clear thought he has.

Tobirama isn’t unconscious. Not entirely, only enough to blur his vision to streaks of colour. He’s moved, thrown over something warm. The end of his tail is grasped and slung up as well. Something bumps into the base of his ventral fin rhythmically, and the gentle rocking motion and shushing of forest litter luls his already hazy mind into a smooth trance.  _ This is nice _ , he’s vaguely aware he shouldn’t like this, but it’s too much like a hug to be not a little enjoyable. “...  _ purring?! _ ” There’s vibrating against his side, and Tobirama realises that he’s been humming. It’s tuneless and deeper than even he would usually be able to manage, but that warm feeling in his chest doesn’t let him stop. He feels soft and pliable, the question nudging lose a few content clicks. A gusty huff and an alarmed squeak when he curls his arms around something firm and warm, pressing his face and inhaling deep dregs of something musky and smoky.

Rumbling against his ear wakes him. Words, soft and deep. There’s a reply, high and squeaky and irritatingly familiar even though his fuzzed brain can’t place it. He’s tugged away from that warmth, and Tobirama growls and digs in claws to keep it close. Tearing, and he’s pried loose, soft scraps fluttering in curled fingers. His hands are pulled up above his head, and he’s laid on his back on something cold. It jolts him, long tail squirming up to curl over his torso and trap the last of that warmth. He shudders when warm, smooth hands brush against his hips and down his lateral lines to his tail. They pull at him, straightening his body and leaving hot trails in their wake. His back arches when they grasp the base of his caudal fin, a shudder flexing all the muscles and causing him to thrash.

The haze is clearing from his mind, and he jolts when heavy metal snaps shut where those warm hands were just grasping. His eyes fly open, and Madara’s face is upside down and filling his vision. “Finally got that big brain of yours working have you?” The Uchiha’s smirk grates on his nerves, quickly banishing the last dregs of warm comfort. Tobirama writhes against the cold tiles, chains clanking and rasping against the floor. Madara laughs and sits back on his haunches. One foot moves to press down on his wrists in warning, cuffed as they are in thick leather above his head, and Tobirama reaches for his chakra with the intent of spitting an ice senbon right into that irritating mouth…  _ but there’s no chakra _ . He’s as helpless as a newborn, the vast ocean of his stores frozen over.  _ And isn’t that ironic _ , he thinks to himself.

Izuna’s laughter springs him out of his trance, and Tobirama pulls violently at the metal collar around his tail, suddenly  _ needing _ the comfort of being curled up under barbed spines and hard scales instead of lying exposed to his worst enemies. It clatters against the floor, chains scraping against tile as he thrashes, but stays where it is. Izuna rises from his seat up against the wall to strut over to him and pet a boot down his exposed side. “Come now you icy bastard, I’m sure even you can tell that you’re going nowhere.” Tobirama glares when the sole of it comes to rest on his exposed hip. “Don’t mock, Otouto, it’s unseemly.” Madara’s voice rumbles above his head, and the younger Uchiha shrugs, moving off to a tub of water. Izuna rinses his hands, and with a sly look over his shoulder flicks droplets over Tobirama’s drying tail. It’s not nearly enough to dull the burn.

He hates Izuna with a passion most people reserve for their favourite food,  but he’s far less comfortable in Madara’s company. The elder Uchiha is his brother’s enemy, and Tobirama knows very little of him other than the sounds of his flames and the crushing feel of his chakra. Madara seems to be waiting for something, and when all Tobirama does is remain quiet and look very pointedly away, he sighs. “Relax, Senju. I take no pleasure in harming cripples. How’d this happen anyway?” Madara circles him to nudge at his tail, and snorts when Tobirama bares his teeth to hiss. “Don’t be so crude. We’re both grown men. Well, mostly.” The joke isn’t lost him, and it grates on already frayed nerves.Madara crouches next to his tail, plucking a lose diamond shaped scale from his back and holding it up to admire it. “Enamel. Interesting. Only you would have teeth on the outside.” The Uchiha leaves him on the floor, stretched on his back and shackled, a deep tub of water temptingly close.

Tobirama sleeps only because it eases the pain of his drying skin. He dreams of warm touches and the deep masculine scent of comfort. He wakes to cool, wet blankets over his tail and a pillow easing under his head. There’s sniffling, the sound of a young voice and the patering of small bare feet on tile. Tobirama turns his head and opens his eyes to look at Kagami’s tear stained face. The moment the boy notices he’s awake, there are arms around his neck in an instant. “I’m sorry Seishin, I didn’t know Oji-teme would do this, I’m sorry I’msorryI’msorry…” Tobirama presses his cheek down onto the boys head rubbing softly just as he would if his hands hadn’t been bound.

Kagami stays with him, keeps him company and chatters at him about all manner of inane things. Nothing clan related of course, Madara has likely stapled that lesson into him, but Tobirama doesn’t care. The boy constantly exchanges the towels on his tail, and helps him roll onto his belly. Izuna is  _ furious _ when he finds Kagami there, and the screamin match that ensues attracts Madara, who has Izuna drag a kicking and screaming toddler from the room. When the door slides closed and both angry voices recede, the last Uchiha in the room turns to him.

Black eyes trail down his bare form and come to rest on towels rendered pink by the blood that had seeped between his scales. When Madara approaches and removes the damp fabric, the flex of his spines is entirely thoughtless. Gloved hands trail down the red patterns of his back. “Interesting.” Is all the man has to say. When the older male makes to grasp his hips, Tobirama jerks away with a warning growl pressed through bare teeth.

“How about I make you a deal, hm Senju?” There’s no hint at intentions in Madara’s body language, and Tobirama refuses to look him in the face. When he doesn’t answer, there’s a putapon sigh. “If you behave, I’ll put you in the tub. Do we have an accord?”

It’s not the idea of a deal that rankles, not even the fact that Madara is an Uchiha; it’s submitting. Tobirama is clear headed, and the thought of allowing Madara to touch him is disconcerting.  _ The fear that it may be pleasant _ , scratches at him. All he is able to recall of his transportation is the scent of masculinity and the sense of warmth and peace within Madara’s arms. A soft grunt drags him from his memories, and suddenly there are hands grasping his wrists.

Thrashing results in a hold that grates his bones, so Tobirama is still as Madara fiddles with his handcuffs. A firm grip, and Madara heaves him up and into the tub. Tobirama lands with an almost anticlimactic splash, sleek body sinking almost immediately to the smooth wood at the bottom of the tub. It’s just large enough for him to curl up in, and the chain of his shackle just long enough to allow it. Tobirama stomps viciously on the instinct to ball up, and instead props himself up in profile where he can see Madara clearly as the man makes to leave. The door slides closed, and footsteps fade down the hall. Tobirama sinks below the water, and obscures the surface with a haze of bubbles.


	6. A Permanent Pond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things really aren't going well.

Being held by the Uchiha is… uncomfortable. Hygiene is the most pressing issue, and Izuna seems to take boundless joy in making relieving himself as uncomfortable as possible. Thankfully the Uchiha has no reason to touch his most intimate places. Madara is an irregular addition to his routine. The Uchiha patriarch seems to have no express reason for his sporadic appearances, and does very little other than sit and stare at Tobirama. Kagami seems to have been forbidden from seeing him, and Tobirama has overheard Izuna muttering about how the boy hasn’t uttered a single word to anyone since being torn from the Senjus’ side.

Almost two weeks into his imprisonment, and Tobirama is roused from his doze by the slide of wood on wood. The weight of footsteps approaching, and he can tell by rhythm alone that this is Madara. “Good morning.” The elder man’s voice is rough and rumbling from lingering sleep. Tobirama doesn’t reply, doesn’t even turn or twitch to indicate that he’s heard. Madara paces around his tub, and bare feet come to a halt at the edge of Tobirama’s vision. He can smell food, and it’s been a full day since he’s eaten last. This, however, makes him suspicious. Madara has never brought him food before, usually it’s Izuna who comes bearing offcuts to fill his belly.

Tobirama stares at the grilled fish held out not onon chopsticks,but by Madara’s bare fingers, and makes no motion to eat.  _ To be fed by hand like some pet, disgusting _ . It’s a test, of course he’s entirely aware of this. And yet Madara’s fingers are  _ right there _ . It’s a test, and Tobirama is  _ so tempted _ to sink needle teeth into vulnerable flesh and  _ rip  _ and  _ tear _ and  _ feast _ . Madara must see the flex of muscles down his back in preparation for a strike. Tobirama lunges, and jaws snap closed where fingers had  _ just _ been. The tiny morsel of fish that lands in his mouth is swallowed reflexively, and Tobirama couldn’t care less if it’d been poisoned.

Clawed hands grasp madly, and his vision tints red, tail thrashing and sloshing water out of the tub. The tearing of fabric as he catches the trailing edge of Madara’s robe. The Uchiha waits for him to exhaust his efforts, standing just out of reach as Tobirama slowly grows light headed from exertion. “I’m disappointed.” It’s a soft murmur, painfully gentle to his ears as he braces himself up on the very edge of the tub, arms trembling with the effort of supporting his torso. Madara sighs and sets the plate of fish down before leaving. Tobirama stains the water pink with blood reaching his food, a fin very nearly torn through by his efforts.

It becomes a regular occurence, Madara bringing him food. It takes weeks before Tobirama will accept food even on chopsticks, and it’s nearly two months before he’ll allow Madara’s fingers anywhere near his face. “Your tail is withering.” Madara pauses, fingers halting mid air after bringing a piece of inarizushi to Tobirama’s mouth. It rankles,  _ but he’s not wrong _ . Tobirama’s tail is slim now, no longer the powerful, muscular mass it had been when he’d first been caught. It’s been bothering him for some time now, a marking of the passage of time as he’s left among the enemy. He knows by now that Hashirama will not be rescuing him, that the elders have likely deemed the life of one cripple to meagre a reward. It doesn’t help that his condition is his fault, but having  _ Madara _ comment on it is a little too much.

The following day, Madara wakes him by gripping under his arms and hauling him out of the tub. Tobirama is too weak to thrash much, but he still jerks a little in surprise and protest. “Stop struggling.” It’s a grumpy growl in his ear, and the words take a moment to register before he stills. It’s an awkward walk through the house, accompanied by the sound of Madara’s footfalls and the shushing of his scales on wood.

He closes his eyes and savours his first breath of fresh air in nearly two months, enjoys the feeling of afternoon light on his tail as it thumps down the engawa stairs. He’s put in a pond, again. Long enough for several of him to lie in head to tail, and about half a body length deep. His chain is anchored to a little pier, and Madara kneels to let him slide slowly into the water. Tobirama knows better than to attempt swimming, lies on the rocky bed instead. A sigh draws his attention to Madara and to the scroll that’s deposited on the pier. Neither of them say anything. Madara has long given up on getting him to talk.

He waits for the Uchiha to disappear into the house before he hauls himself up to rest his chest on the pier. The scroll is plain, nondescript. The wax seal has already been broken off, and it opens easily. Tobirama unrolls it slowly, and is struck still by a twinge in his heart as the handwriting reveals itself.  _ Hashirama’s hand _ . It’s unmistakable, the characters sure and firm and a little messy. He had to read it thrice before the message sinks in. “Unfit to perform his duty” and “no longer of considerate value when weighed against the Senju Clan at large”. He knew Hashirama couldn’t rescue him, but to see it confirmed by his brothers’ own hand is something else entirely. “Rendered obsolete as heir” brings the tiniest spark of pride to his heart. Tobirama is an uncle now.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think.
> 
> This is what prompted the story. I do art... things. It's not the best, and the image quality is sheit, but I feel okay about this enough to shout myself out. Shout out myself? Suddenly I'm eighty again...  
> https://66.media.tumblr.com/496953d820fb92ad3273d06f1b15398d/tumblr_pixshqJDfr1v22at2o1_1280.jpg


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